


Skyrim and The Witcher Crossover

by Macncheese22



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-01-25 16:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12536616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macncheese22/pseuds/Macncheese22
Summary: While running from the Wild Hunt, Ciri finds herself in Tamriel, a continent on the brink of war, and comes face-to-face with the Last Dragonborn himself and enlists his help to find her way back home.





	1. Chapter 1

Go! Now!" Avallac'h yelled as he pushed Ciri through the portal. He hoped the destination he'd chosen would cover her tracks sufficiently.  
Ciri landed hard on the dirt. Dazed, she looked up to see the canopy of trees around her. She automatically assumed that this was a different world, based on the nature of the portal Avallac'h opened. She slowly rose to her feet, grabbing a low lying tree branch to balance herself. There seemed to be path leading to a main road, so she followed it, hoping to find shelter. Ciri walked on, struggling to stay on her feet. She was exhausted, hungry, and lost. She didn't know how long she'd been walking when she heard the sound of wood being chopped. Ciri walked a bit faster to discover the source of the noise. She could feel her strength draining as her vision blurred and she stumbled. She finally traced the noise to a large clearing with a huge house in the middle of it. Ciri looked for the owner with the last of her strength. The last thing Ciri saw was a shirtless man with an axe in hand.  
Ciri woke up sweaty and hot. Instead of the hard near frozen ground she'd collapsed on, she was now resting on a soft down bed. Her eyes darted around, registering her surroundings: a rustic room with some chests, candles and lots of swords mantled. She feebly tried to sit up, but was stopped by the sharp pain in her gut. She laid back down for a moment, then attempted again. She cried out as pain shot through her abdomen once more. A voice responded to her groans.  
"Woah now, not so fast," Ciri looked to her side to see a smiling face. The man was very attractive, with long black hair tucked back into a ponytail, sky blue eyes, and a nose that reminded her of Geralt's. She propped herself up on her elbows.  
"W-where am I?" she asked.  
The man chuckled. "Well I guess you did seem a bit lost. You're in Skyrim, just west of Falkreath."  
Ciri cursed internally. She'd suspected the portal Avallac'h opened would lead to another world, anywhere where the Wild Hunt couldn't track her.  
"Great. And your name is?" She asked.  
The man smiled again. "The name's Brynjar, though some call me Bryn," He looked at Ciri's ragged clothes. "You must've traveled long and hard, passed out right in front of me."  
"Longer and harder than you've likely done," She felt the pit of her stomach grumble, no doubt from the wafting smell of cooked meat. Brynjar noticed the expression.  
"Oh yeah, I've made some stew, in case you were hungry," Brynjar stood up. "Are you hungry?"  
Ciri reattempted to sit up. She doubled over in pain. "I am, very much so. But you may have to help me up." Brynjar stretched out his hand and Ciri gripped them. He pulled her up effortlessly and held her up. Ciri noticed he smelt like pine needles. Once she gained her footing, she merely leaned on his shoulder. They walked into a large room, highlighted by a long table that was mostly empty. Ciri sat at the table, as Brynjar took a bowl and ladled soup into it. She hadn't noticed until now that he was still shirtless, flaunting his ripped abs and biceps. He took the bowl and sat in front of Ciri, along with several buttered loaves of bread and cheese. He sat across from Ciri, but hardly was seated before Ciri began slopping down the soup.  
Brynjar chuckled. "I was right, you are hungry!" He poured her a tankard of mead. "Here, wash it down with this."  
Ciri swiftly chugged the mead down, hardly stopping eating the stew. Brynjar held back a laugh as she drained the rest. "Thank you, I'd not eaten in… I'm not even sure how long," Ciri wiped her hands on a cloth. "And the stew, I'm surprised, didn't think a man could cook anything halfway edible."  
Brynjar smiled again. Ciri thought his smile made him even more attractive. "When you're out here by yourself, there's plenty of time to learn," He poured mead for himself. "But you, you have not told me your name nor where you're from. So go on, then."  
Ciri caught herself staring at his chest. "Um, right. I'm Ciri, and, as I'm sure you've noticed, I am not from these parts."  
"That much is clear. Alright, I won't pry," Brynjar crossed his arms. "So what can I do, Ciri, to make you as comfortable as possible in these strange lands?"  
Ciri leaned back a bit. "Well, you could do me the small favor of gathering some water for a bath. More of that stew would suffice as well."  
Brynjar chuckled. "As for the soup, not an issue, but the bath, well, I'm afraid the only thing in the way of that is the lake."  
"I suppose that's better than nothing," Ciri sighed. "I could do with more of that stew." Brynjar grinned as he took her bowl to refill it. Ciri took the liberty to pour herself another drink, admiring the back muscles of her host. She wondered just who he actually was. She found it hard to believe that he was just a random logger. No, he had the build of a warrior, a naturally gifted man. But what was he doing out here, clearly in the middle of nowhere?


	2. Chapter 2

Ciri wrapped the makeshift towel around her. The lake water had been incredibly cold, and the coolness of the evening hadn't helped much. Shivering, she trudged back up to the house. Brynjar seemed kind enough, but Ciri was wary. Perhaps she was simply putting up a barrier, but somehow Brynjar seemed to demolish it as soon as he smiled or laughed. It was simply infectious. Finally in the safety of the house, went up the stairs to where she had left her clothes. She was sure she felt Brynjar's eyes as she did. Once comfortably clothed, Ciri joined him at the now empty table.  
"Here, drink this. Got a few more weeks before spring, but this oughta keep you warm," Brynjar slid a tan bottle across to Ciri. She hesitated before drinking. She took one sip and erupted into a coughing fit. Brynjar laughed loudly. "Ha! That's Firebrand Mead for ya! Perfect for keeping warm in the winter." He opened a bottle for himself.  
Ciri recovered and sat the drink down. "So, I'm a stranger to these lands. Tell me about them so I'm not completely in the dark."  
Brynjar nodded and disappeared for a moment to fetch more mead and a map. "Alright, well, for starters, where we are now is Skyrim," He pointed to the northernmost land. "Skyrim is the land of the Nords, vicious winters, and sky-kissed peaks. Where we are is the southern forests of Skyrim, Falkreath."  
Ciri found herself not interested in that, so she went straight to the point. "Who are you? You're clearly not some random hermit, no you're a warrior, a fighter, but why are you out here in these woods?"  
Brynjar stared at the map for a while. "Well… I'm…hmm, waiting on orders shall we say?"  
"What kind of orders?"  
Brynjar hesitated. "Orders… from the Emperor of Tamriel," Ciri gave him a confused look. "Tamriel is the continent Skyrim and other provinces are on."  
"So you're a lackey for an emperor? I find that hard to believe."  
"You shouldn't. There's a war coming and Emperor Septimus wants me and Skyrim on his side."  
Ciri looked at him for a moment. She thought that she saw something unique about him, but couldn't quite place what it was. He was clearly a somewhat important, if he wasn't lying, but why?  
"You aren't lying are you?" Ciri asked.  
"Not in the slightest. Since the death of his father, Titus Mede II, the Emperor has been preparing for war and he needs allies. Powerful allies." Brynjar finished his mead and stood. "A lovely little conversation this is, but I'm retiring for the night. When you get tired, there are several beds upstairs. Pick one and fall right in."  
Ciri scoffed. "What? Just like that and this is over? I want answers and I—"  
"Good night Ciri." He went into his own room and nearly slammed the door. Ciri groaned. Why was this man so difficult? And what war was he talking about? The thought gave Ciri a headache, so she headed up the stairs to the small room with a bed in it. She went to sleep trying to figure who this character was she was holed up with.


	3. Chapter 3

Ciri awoke to the smell of freshly cooked breakfast. From downstairs, she heard Brynjar and another unfamiliar voice conversing. She crept to the space above the kitchen hall to eavesdrop on them.  
"The Emperor is slow to move. He knows our forces aren't ready," said the stranger's voice. Ciri took a peek at the stranger, who was heavily armored and sported an elaborate cloak. By the looks of it, he was a military leader.  
"No they aren't. Both Skyrim and the Empire are still weakened from the Civil War. We need more time. And a lot of it," Brynjar responded.  
"No worries. Ambassador Omindal remains in the Imperial City, clearly still convinced Septimus won't actually act."  
"Good then. As long as Omindal doesn't suspect anything, which buys us more time."  
"We still need allies though. The Empire will need the support of the provinces. That means Hammerfell, High Rock, and Morrowind as well."  
"We'll get to that. For now we just need to bind our time until-, oh good morning Ciri," Brynjar noticed Ciri's presence as she walked into the hall. The stranger also turned to acknowledge Ciri. "Sit down, help yourself to some breakfast."  
Ciri sat across from the stranger and began piling her plate with bacon and bread. "You gonna introduce me to your friend?"  
"Right. Ahem, Ciri, this is General Tarquinius Mede, brother of Emperor Septimus Mede, and commander of the Imperial armies. General, this is Ciri a…friend of mine,"  
General Tarquinius grinned at Ciri. "Really? Just friends? Are you sure about that?"  
Ciri frowned. "Are you implying that we're in a relationship? 'Cause if you are, you're sadly mistaken."  
The General sniggered. "No, I'm not. It's just that…this little…situation is, well, unique, at best," Tarquinius saw Brynjar blush mildly. "Well, best I be on my way. I still need to talk with High King Balgruuf and General Tulius."  
The General and Brynjar both stood up. "Will you be needing any supplies for the trip?"  
Tarquinius shook his head. "No, but thank you. I believe my provisions should prove sufficient. Farewell, Dragonborn." Tarquinius shook Brynjar's hand and went out the door. Brynjar returned to his seat across from Ciri.  
"Dragonborn? What's that, a nickname or something?" Ciri asked as she grabbed another piece of bread.  
"It's more of a…title really,"  
Ciri smiled with interest. "Care to explain?"  
"Not now, it's a story that would take at least a day," Brynjar poured himself some dark mead.  
"Well it's a good thing it's still morning and we've got practically all day," Ciri reached for the same mead.  
Brynjar sighed. He quickly downed his drink. "Well, where do I start? Hmm, OK. Thousands of years ago, mankind was enslaved by the elves. The elves used magic to summon foul creatures from other realms to help keep them in power. A priestess of Akatosh, the divine god of time and dragons, prayed to him for liberation. Akatosh answered by giving the priestess, St. Alessia, his own blood, which he promised would seal shut the gates to the evil realm as long as her descendants kept it. The blood was placed in a jewel, called the Amulet of Kings. It is still worn by every emperor to this day."  
Ciri shook her head. "What's all that got to do with the name 'Dragonborn?"  
"Because the line of emperors is called the Dragonborn Rulers, but the title is false. A Dragonborn is a mortal with the body of a mortal, but soul of a dragon."  
"And what exactly is special about that?"  
Brynjar sighed. "Before anything existed on Tamriel, there were dragons. They are the children of Akatosh, the Dragon-God of time, and that makes them immortal. They have an innate understanding of nature and can bend it to their use just by talking."  
Ciri looked confused. "So, you're saying that fire-breathing beasts ruled this world?"  
"In a way, yes. Like I said, their language was so powerful they could control nature and elements, so early men worshipped them as gods. This is where things get somewhat confusing. Akatosh's first-born and the most powerful dragon, Alduin, had the responsibility of ending one world to give rise to the next. However, Alduin instead seized power over men, demanding their worship. So Kyne, the goddess of the skies and nature gave man the ability to fight the dragon overlords using the dragon language, called the Thu'um. Men waged war against the dragons and eventually won, driving dragons to extinction. From then on, Akatosh chose to bless certain individuals with dragon blood, with the ability to learn the Thu'um in an instant. Anyone born with the dragon blood is almost always destined to change history, to be a great leader of some sort, from Reman Cyrodiil to Tiber Septim."  
"OK, so you are one of these Dragonborn? You don't appear to be all that important to me."  
"Oh but I am. See here's the catch. As punishment for Alduin's treachery, Akatosh sent him forward in time, destined to be defeated by the Dragonborn of that era. That just so happened to be me. Not to mention Alduin was not the only dragon to return; they all did. See, I'm the only Dragonborn to have actually seen and killed a dragon."  
Ciri smirked. "So that makes you special somehow?"  
Brynjar frowned. "Well, I don't usually boast about this type of thing, but yeah, it kinda does," Brynjar downed another tankard. "Well, I think that's enough about myself. Why don't you tell me about where you're from, huh? Think I deserve to know about who's staying in my house."  
Ciri was a bit caught off guard. She'd never had to explain the semantics of her world to someone not from there. "Hmm…I'm not sure where to start really,"  
Brynjar chimed in. "For starters, you could tell me about your family, then maybe how you got here."  
"Right. In my world…I'm someone fairly important too. Don't give me that look, let me explain. My biological father is the emperor of a very powerful nation that nearly covers the continent we live on. But I wasn't raised by him due to some… complicated issues. Instead, my father is a witcher, someone who kills monsters and protects people from them. He raised me, taught me to fight, and various witcher skills. My biological mother, she died in a storm after I was born. Because I knew Geralt, he introduced me to his lover at the time, a sorceress named Yennefer. She taught me the Elder speech and some magic and how to control my abilities."  
Brynjar leaned in, suddenly interested. "Abilities? Like what?"  
"Well for example, I can travel at the speed of light. I can also travel between worlds with ease."  
Brynjar stared at Ciri a moment before busting out in laughter. "Travel? At the speed of light? Haha! You really are a jester Ciri!"  
Ciri's face turned red. "I'd would show, but I'd put your life in great danger if I did,"  
Brynjar snorted. "Oh really? Just what danger would you bring? The speed of light patrol? Haha!"  
Ciri grew angrier, fist clenching under the table. "No, the Wild Hunt, elves who can travel between worlds and find me like a hound sniffs out its prey. They want my blood."  
"Despite the absurdity of all this, that would explain how you practically fell out of the sky. So this… Wild Hunt. They want you for your blood? Why exactly?"  
"There's a prophecy about the end of all the worlds: the White Frost. An unending winter will destroy all life in the universe, and only Elder Blood can stop it. My blood, that is. So the Wild Hunt wants me so that I can stop the oncoming apocalypse."  
Brynjar stroked his chin. "As outlandish as it may seem, I actually believe you. I've seen so many things just here in Tamriel, I don't find it difficult to believe that something just as absurd as anywhere else. But, this begs the question: how do you plan on getting back home?"  
"I guess I don't really know. The best I can hope for is that my mentor, Avallac'h, will come for me."  
Brynjar wiped his face with a cloth and smiled his infectious smile. "Well until then, you're welcome to stay here Ciri."  
Ciri smiled back. "Thank you. I won't forget your kindness." Ciri blushed a little as she realized she was staring. She looked down, already knowing that his friendship was certainly going to be an interesting one.


	4. Chapter 4

Two Weeks Later  
Ciri laughed as she disarmed Brynjar for the second time in a row. Brynjar flushed with frustration.  
"Damn it! How did you move so fast?"  
Ciri chuckled. "Footwork, duh. If you got rid of that clunky shield, you might have a chance to catch me."  
Brynjar dropped the steel shield and charged at Ciri. She laughed again as she parried his blow then zoomed behind Brynjar in the blink of an eye.  
"How-, What did-? Wait you're using magic aren't you? You won't get away with that!"  
"I will because you can't catch me!" Ciri moved again, taking advantage of Brynjar's surprise. However, Brynjar's instinct took over, dodging her blade swiftly. Ciri spun and landed another blow, with the Dragonborn parrying it. The two were engaged in an intricate dance of swords, with two completely different styles: one that relied on speed and dodging, the other on strength and instinct. Brynjar could feel his body tiring somewhat, and he could see Ciri was too, but was determined not to show it. She made a minor misstep and Brynjar saw his opportunity.  
"Zun Haal!" He shouted at Ciri, instantly knocking her weapon out of her hand and her body onto the ground. He rushed forward to rest his sword at the nape of her throat. "I win," Brynjar laughed, still breathing heavily. He helped an unarmed Ciri to her feet. She rubbed her back.  
"Oww! What the hell was that?" She groaned as she sheathed her sword.  
"The Thu'um, the power of the dragons. Told you it was powerful."  
"What? Now that is cheating. At least I can't help that I'm just better than you," Brynjar laughed as she playfully shoved him. They sat on the small pier over the small lake. "I'm serious now, when are we going to leave this place? You keep telling me about these great cities and expansive wilds, and now I want to see them." Brynjar looked Ciri in the eye. It was hard not to get lost in her large, emerald eyes. Not to mention her beautiful face. It had taken Brynjar a lot of restraint not to stare, at her face and her backside. He'd always been able to have his pick of women, being the Dragonborn and all, they simply couldn't resist him. But Ciri was different, she wasn't easy to crack. She seemed to have a natural barrier to his charm and good looks, so much so that he wondered if she wasn't attracted to men. It was somewhat frustrating to Brynjar, so used to women falling for him without him even trying, that he couldn't have her. And he didn't dare make any bold advances, lest she try to cut his hands, or something worse off. All he could manage were a few well-timed jests and flirts.  
"You're right, it is a bit dull out here. Yeah, we'll go to Whiterun first thing tomorrow. I've friends there, and I think you'll really like them."  
Ciri smiled. "Won't see 'til tomorrow, I guess." The two of them sat on the pier in silence a while longer. Brynjar had the thought to lean over and kiss her, but he wasn't sure how she might react to that. His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden change in temperature and fresh snowflakes.  
"Snow? This close to spring and this far south? Strange," he frowned. He noticed Ciri's face morph into one of caution.  
"The Hunt, they've found me. Quick, get the horses." Ciri stood and readied her sword as Brynjar hurried toward the stable. The sky grayed and the temperature dropped further. Ciri could hear the horses panicking and ran to help Brynjar. In the distance she could already hear the pounding hooves of several horses.  
"How many are there?" Brynjar asked, shouting above the rising wind.  
"Dozens probably. They're gaining quickly, we need to ride now." Ciri heard shouts and growling from behind them. Several Wild Hunt riders had dismounted behind them along with several ice hounds. Brynjar drew his sword.  
"Here take the reins and ride north. Quickly now, while I distract them,"  
Ciri shook her head. "You can't they're too many of them, they'll massacre you."  
Brynjar grinned. "Ciri, I've faced dragons and come out without a scratch. Besides, I've seen colder summers than this; ice runs in my blood. Now go!"  
Ciri reluctantly climbed on the horse and kicked into a gallop. What she saw when she looked back was stunning: a lightly armored Brynjar slicing through the Riders with flames in his hand. As she galloped, branches and leaves whipped her across the face. She heard several riders gaining on her as their portals opened. One rider was particularly close behind her. She turned to see Brynjar galloping close up on her.  
"Strun Bah Qo!" Brynjar yelled. Immediately several riders were struck by lightning and vaporized. The ones in their proximity were also knocked off their horses. Ciri swore she saw Caranthir open a portal. Suddenly he appeared in front of them and struck Brynjar's horse, causing him to fly forward.  
"Bryn!" Ciri cried. Her worries were quickly silenced as a streak of lightning closed the distance between Brynjar and Caranthir, shooting the elf back into his own portal. Ciri reined her horse back around and stretched out her hand for Brynjar. He jumped on the horse with no effort at all. Ciri and Brynjar rode on until all signs of the Wild Hunt virtually disappeared. Ciri slowed the horse to a slow trot.  
"Are you hurt?" She asked without turning around.  
Brynjar groaned. He gripped his shoulder, where a shallow gash had blood gushing from it. "Agh, I'm fine, what about you?"  
"Fine. That was really something you did back there. Lemme guess, the dragon language?"  
"Mhm, yeah that. You know you totally needed saving that time,"  
Ciri grinned and rolled her eyes. "I never need saving, thank you."  
"You're welcome," Brynjar retorted.  
Ciri laughed, but stopped when she noticed Brynjar's grip slacken. She saw his hand fall, covered in blood and not elven blood either.  
"Brynjar?"  
"Uhhh," Brynjar mumbled incoherently before falling to the ground with a thud.  
"Brynjar!" Ciri jumped off the horse. She turned Brynjar over to see his wound. She examined the jagged wound where blood was continually gushing. "Oh gods, I don't even know what I can use." She struggled to move Brynjar from the road and propped him against a rock.  
"S-saddle, r-red bottle." Brynjar managed weakly. Ciri rummaged through the saddle bags to find the bottle he mentioned. She quickly located the small bottle. Brynjar opened his mouth, gesturing to drink it. Ciri took the top off the bottle and poured it down his mouth. He grimaced as he finished the contents of the potion. His wound stopped bleeding immediately. Ciri tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wiped away the blood over the wound. She went through the saddlebags again and found a bottle of very strong alcohol. Not having anything else, Ciri poured it on Brynjar's wound. He winced in pain as the liquid ran down into the wound. Ciri used all of her strength to haul Brynjar off the ground and back onto the horse. Brynjar fell asleep on horseback as Ciri walked on with the reins.


	5. Chapter 5

Brynjar awoke to the cool winds of Whiterun hold. He was still in the saddle, surprisingly, and Ciri was on foot.  
"Ah, Sleeping Beauty is finally awake, huh?" She teased.  
Brynjar managed a weak grin. "Yeah, but the real beauty has been awake and walking this whole time," He could already sense the incoming eye-roll. Instead he was answered with a question.  
"Is this that Whiterun city you were talking about? With the keep on the hill, and all that?"  
Brynjar looked around at the surrounding farms and at the stables where he'd bought horses many times from. "Yep this is it. Home sweet home." He hopped down from horse as they approached the city stables.  
"Dragonborn! Welcome back!" The stable-hand greeted him, taking the reins from Ciri.  
"Thank you, sir! We'll continue on foot," Brynjar responded. He noticed Ciri was distracted by something.  
"Hey, are those…walking cats? This place is much stranger than I originally thought."  
Brynjar turned to where the Khajiit caravan had made camp. "You mean the Khajiit? Yes they may look like walking cats, but don't say that to their faces. Like cats they're very stealthy and you'll end up all the poorer for it."  
The two of them walked on past the drawbridge when Brynjar noticed that the walls were being rebuilt. Preparing for war, he thought. A few of the guards saluted him as they walked past.  
"Well it seems you really are quite the hero," Ciri commented.  
"Mhm. Several years ago there was a civil war raging in Skyrim. I fought beside these men and women against the Stormcloaks, the rebels," Brynjar pushed open the gates to the city. "Ladies first," He grinned as Ciri rolled her eyes again. The city was bustling as they walked through: Adrienne hammering away on a dagger, the din of masons and workers moving stone, merchants haggling at their stalls, and the laughter of playing children. Several citizens acknowledged them and went on by their business. Ciri beamed with excitement.  
"Well, this is quite the city isn't it? It's no Novigrad, but it's still something."  
Brynjar chuckled. He walked up to one of the houses and pulled out a key. "This is Breezehome, my house here in Whiterun. Right now my housecarl, Lydia is taking care of it, so don't get the wrong idea about us."  
"Wouldn't dream of it."  
Brynjar pushed open the door to reveal a small cozy kitchen and a couple of chairs surrounding a pot over a fire. A woman in steel armor hurried down the steps.  
"Who's there?" she asked before seeing the Dragonborn. "Ah, my Thane. Welcome home. I see you have a guest?" Lydia gave Brynjar a warm hug before acknowledging Ciri.  
"That I do. Ciri, this is Lydia, my housecarl and faithful companion. Lydia, this is Ciri, a…good friend of mine. Ladies, I'm going to get changed, get acquainted, I'll be back soon." Brynjar disappeared up the stairs, leaving Lydia and Ciri around the fire.  
Lydia sat next to Ciri. "So… you two… just friends?"  
Ciri rummaged through the cabinet for food. She made herself a makeshift sandwich from cheese and dry bread. "Mhm, yes. Just friends. Why do you ask?"  
Lydia grinned smugly. "No reason. It's just that…well, Bryn hasn't looked at anyone like that since…well, in a long time."  
"And what way are you talking about?"  
"You really don't know? Brynjar doesn't take his relationships lightly. Whenever he falls for someone, he always gets this look. I call it 'Mara's Eyes'. It means he'll do anything to win you over…and anything to keep you."  
Ciri's eyebrows raised. Over the past two weeks, she'd noticed Brynjar giving her looks from time to time, but she hadn't thought much of it. Sure he was handsome and charismatic, and certainly powerful, but Ciri wasn't sure if he was her type. She wanted more time to decide. Brynjar interrupted her train of thought.  
"Alright! All ready now," Brynjar said as he stretched into his light Dawnguard armor. "Ciri, we're going to meet a couple of friends of mine. Lydia, you coming?"  
Lydia groaned. "Oh, I don't think so. Last time I drank with the Companions, I could hardly stand the next morning. No thank you, I'll stay here."  
Brynjar shrugged. "Suit yourself. Come on Ciri, think you'll like the Companions a lot." The pair walked out the house and into the busy streets. Several merchants tried to hassle and bargain with them. A beggar came up begging, and Brynjar tossed him two septims.  
"So, what's the story behind the Companions?"  
Brynjar smiled, getting ready to go into storytelling mode. "When Ysgramor and his sons first settled Skyrim, they brought Five Hundred Companions with them, all renowned and battle-hardened warriors. When they found Whiterun, they built a mead hall and training grounds around the Skyforge. Ever since then, the Companions reside here in Jorrvaskr, respected warriors with fierce reputations, who take coin in exchange for their labor. Kinda like that Witcher's guild you talk about."  
"Sounds interesting," Ciri said. As they approached a building with an upside down ship for a roof, smells of roasting meat and sweet desserts wafted from it. Sounds of shouting and punches being thrown could be heard before they ever opened the doors.  
They opened the doors into a long hall with long tables covered in mead, ale, and various foods. A dark elf and a Nord woman were fist-fighting in the corner.  
Brynjar laughed. "That's Athis and Njada, they're always fighting," Brynjar spotted Farkas at the table cheering. He went and placed a hand on his shoulder. "My money's on Njada."  
Farkas' face lit up in recognition. "Harbinger! Good to see you here!" He stood and firmly shook Brynjar's hand. "See you brought a guest with you?"  
Ciri stepped forward to shake Farkas' hand. She noticed that he smelled a bit like a wet dog. "I'm Ciri, it's a pleasure."  
"Farkas, Companion and Vilkas' brother, as most know me. Nice sword, by the way. New to Skyrim, are you?"  
"I am. Very new."  
"Well it's good to meet you and welcome to Whiterun, Ciri," Farkas turned to Brynjar, who was busy munching on a boiled crème treat. "Aela and Vilkas are in the courtyard, they'll wanna see you I'm sure."  
"Thanks. And it's good seeing you again Farkas."  
"You too, Harbinger."  
Brynjar turned to Ciri. "Aela and Vilkas are both senior members of the Companions. They've been here even longer than I have. Together the four of us make up the Circle, senior members of the Companions. I've gotta feeling that you'll really like Aela." The two went out into the courtyard, where the sun was setting. Aela was standing against a pole, watching Vilkas and an Orc spar. Without even turning around, she knew he was there.  
"Harbinger. It's been awhile," she said, still not turning around. "Welcome back."  
"So glad you're happy to see me," Brynjar said with sarcasm. "Will you at least welcome my guest?"  
Aela turned around to see Ciri. Ciri registered her sultry armor. She found that it was a bit impractical, but it suit her well. Her breasts were one hell of a distraction tactic. Not to mention the intimidating war paint across her face.  
"So lemme guess, you're another one of Brynjar's girls, hmm?" Aela asked, clearly pissed for no apparent reason.  
Ciri frowned. "Um no, I don't belong to anyone. I'm traveling with him because I don't know this land, and no other reason." Brynjar gave Ciri a hurt look.  
Aela moved closer. "I think it's clear you're new here, because you know nothing about his reputation with women. Otherwise you wouldn't be seen traveling with him."  
Brynjar stepped in quickly. "Aela, don't you think you're giving Ciri here the wrong impression? I thought that we-,"  
"Whatever you thought, it was wrong and I don't care what it was." Aela stormed off before Brynjar could respond.  
"What's she got her panties all in a twist about?" Ciri asked, puzzled. Brynjar shrugged and raced off behind her.  
The man who had been sparring approached her. "What a mess, am I right? I'm Vilkas by the way. Welcome to Jorrvaskr. Ciri, right?" He asked, extending his hand to her.  
"Yes, I'm Ciri. A pleasure. That was…definitely a tad strange," Ciri sat down at one of the tables outside and opened a bottle of ale. "What exactly was that about?"  
"Ooo, that's a complicated one. Lemme get a drink first," Vilkas grabbed himself some ale and plate of cheese and bread to share. "Aela and Brynjar…well they have a history. As in, they shared a bed for a while, history."  
Ciri frowned. She felt a slight pang of jealousy knowing that Brynjar had been with her. "Ah-ha, I see."  
"Yeah. They were together for a while, sometime after the Civil war. They were close, spent a lot of time together…hunted together. But Brynjar couldn't sit still very long and set off on his own pursuits, most of them far away from Whiterun. He…I think he made something come out in Aela, something no one thought was there. She wanted to settle with him, maybe even have children someday. But the Harbinger didn't necessarily want the same, so they split. Aela's been somewhat bitter about it since and now she sees you with him…I'd even say she's jealous."  
Ciri chuckled. "Oh no, it's nothing like that. We're just friends, nothing more."  
"Mhm. For now you are, but even I can tell he wants you. He's never looked at anyone that way, not even Aela."  
"Hmm, right." Ciri sat in deep thought about what she'd heard for a moment until she felt her sword being drawn from its sheath on her back. "What the-," She turned to see a very large Orc twirling her sword.  
"Ho-ho, this is damned good steel!" growled the Orc. "This isn't from the Skyforge is it? This is ten times better than anything a forge-wife could make!" The Orc admired the blade, ignoring Ciri's protests.  
Vilkas chuckled. "Ciri, this is Vrag Dur-Shurd, an Orc and newer member of the Companions."  
Vrag smiled, showing his sharp tusks. "That's right. Such a fine sword must have an even finer owner. I think I'd like to put that to the test,"  
Ciri smiled, taking her sword back. "Challenge accepted." The two moved to the center of the courtyard, taking their places. Vrag wielded a steel greatsword, comparable to those the Wild Hunt fought with. He charged at Ciri yelling, but Ciri swiftly parried the blow, then nimbly pirouetted. Vilkas' attention from the match was stolen by Brynjar's return.  
"Harbinger."  
"Vilkas. I see Ciri's already making friends."  
"Yeah, just not with Aela, that's clear."  
Brynjar sighed. "Yeah, she's still a bit upset but she'll come around," Brynjar observed the match closely, watching Ciri's footwork and Vrag's rather slow strikes. "Excellent strikes, Vrag! You'll be able to slice butter at that rate!" Brynjar teased. Vrag got distracted and stepped, allowing Ciri to sweep in and end the match with her sword at the back of his neck. Brynjar and a few onlookers cheered, a couple exchanging coins. "Food's ready!" One member shouted. Everyone outside came into the hall where the tables were piled with roasted venison steaks, beef, grilled and steamed vegetables, smoked fish, sweet rolls and boiled cream treats, and of course, lots of mead and ale. Ciri found Brynjar in the midst of the crowd.  
"Hey, nice moves back there. Really showed him," Brynjar complimented her while digging into a steak.  
"Thanks. Look, I talked to Vilkas about you and Aela. Is all that true? Is that why she lashed out at me?"  
Brynjar frowned and sighed. "Yeah, I guess so. About a year or so ago, we agreed to let bygones be bygones, but…I guess old habits die hard." Brynjar smiled at Ciri and then she saw it. What Lydia and Vilkas were talking about: admiration, respect, love…lust. She smiled back, not quite knowing how to react.  
"To the Harbinger! To his valiant return to Whiterun and his glorious adventures!" Vrag shouted out and the whole hall cheered and raised their mugs. The hall erupted in the loud sounds of eating, laughing, and the retelling of the stories of yore. Ciri was listening intently to a Nord named Torvar tell the tale of a battle during the Civil War.  
"… I swear to the divines so many heads rolled that day. Blood practically watered the streets of Whiterun, so much every crack in the road had blood spilling out of it. And the screams of dying men and women, and the smell of burning flesh, it was enough to drive a man mad. But I'm a Nord, and I'm made of tougher stuff."  
Ciri drunk with Vrag as well, telling him about her adventures with Geralt.  
"Sounds like a great guy. I'll have to meet him one day, and we'll see if he's as strong as me." Vrag boasted drunkenly.  
Ciri laughed. "We'll see one day, hopefully." She spotted Aela in a corner, sullenly drinking and listening to stories blown completely out of proportion. Aela nodded to Ciri, her way of a silent apology. Ciri searched for Brynjar, instead finding a slightly drunk Farkas.  
"Farkas, have you seen Brynjar anywhere?" She asked, having to yell over the din.  
"Hmm? Oh yeah, why don't you check in the quarters downstairs? His is the biggest room at the end of the hall."  
Ciri nodded and managed to push her way through the crowd to Jorrvaskr's quarters. The quarters were eerily quiet compared to the rowdiness of the feast. Ciri found Brynjar exactly where Farkas said, drinking ale and sitting in a chair.  
"Hope you didn't think you could leave me with those drunks and get away with it, did you?" Ciri smiled and sat on the edge of bed. The alcohol was definitely getting to her now.  
"No, because I figured you'd come find me when you figured it out." Brynjar stood and came towards her.  
"Figured what out?"  
"That I'm in love with you Ciri. I know we've only known each other for a short time, but you've made me feel something I've never felt before. I felt it the first time I saw you, dirty and exhausted. And I feel it now, stronger than ever."  
Ciri was taken aback. "I-I don't, I'm not sure what to say,"  
Brynjar kneeled in front of her. "You don't need to say anything." He leaned in close kissed Ciri deeply. Ciri forgot everything in that moment as Brynjar's lips met hers. She ran her hand through his hair, and the other over his chest. Brynjar moved from her lips and down to her neck. They quickly fumbled to remove their clothing. Brynjar pushed her back onto the bed, still kissing and massaging her breasts. The noise from the upstairs feast covered up the noises made by Brynjar and Ciri all night long.


	6. Chapter 6

Ciri awoke to Brynjar's arms wrapped around her and tousled bed sheets. Last night hadn't gone as she planned, but even better.  
Brynjar yawned as he awoke. "Morning, sleeping beauty. Have fun last night?"  
Ciri smiled and turned to face Brynjar. "Certainly. You did promise I'd enjoy myself here in Whiterun, and I have, so far." They embraced and kissed, running their hands in each other's hair, feeling each other up. A knock sounded on the door. Brynjar sighed and rolled out of bed to dress. Ciri stayed in bed to simply admire his physique. She was forced out of bed by the constant knocking.  
"Alright, alright, come in already," Brynjar groaned. Vrag opened the door.  
"Harbinger, a courier came from the High King requesting your presence in Solitude." Vrag saw the conditions on which he'd walked in on, and quickly left blushing.  
"What would the King want with you?" Ciri asked.  
"Probably something to do with the war effort. We should leave today, before noon."  
Ciri began dressing. "That's too bad, I was starting to like this place. Are you sure we have to go now?"  
"You can stay if you like, I suppose. I'll just return for you on my way back."  
Ciri pulled on her boots and stood up. "Oh no. If you think I'll let you go an adventure without me, you are greatly mistaken."  
Brynjar smiled then kissed Ciri. "Then get ready, the journey is almost a week long at best. I think we'll have ourselves a grand time." He finished dressing himself and headed out the door. Ciri followed him out into the quarters, where several dwellers were passed out with serious hangovers from the previous night. They went up the stairs and into the now quiet halls where a maid was sweeping. More Companions were passed out from last night, strewn across the floor. Vrag was waiting for them by the door.  
"Here, the courier said to give this to you," Vrag handed Brynjar a scroll with the Imperial dragon seal on it. Vrag headed off to move the drunks off the floor.  
"An Imperial seal? Must be important," Brynjar noted and proceeded to read it aloud: "To Legate Brynjar Snow-Hammer, Dragonborn and Harbinger of the Companions, the Imperial Commander Tarquinius Mede and the High King of Skyrim, request your presence at the convening war council in Solitude, at the behest of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Septimus Mede. Accommodations will be made for yourself and one guest."  
Brynjar tucked the scroll in his belt. "Well, we'd best get going then. A war council is important. Very important." Brynjar held the door open for Ciri as they left Jorrvaskr and headed back to Breezehome to gather supplies. They walked through the stirring city quickly, or at least Ciri did. Brynjar had told her that Solitude was Skyrim's capital, making her excited to explore an even bigger city. Brynjar yanked open the door to Breezehome, where Lydia was eating a small breakfast.  
"You two are back. Have a good time last night?" Lydia asked, trying to hide a smirk on her face.  
"Yes. Better than I expected," Ciri responded, already knowing what Lydia was referring to. An awkward silence followed with Lydia suppressing a smile and Ciri staring at Brynjar. Brynjar blushed and broke the silence.  
"Ahem. Lydia, I'm going to be gone for a while again, so I need you to look after the place."  
Lydia feigned interest. "Where are you off to this time?"  
"Solitude. A war council apparently."  
Lydia frowned. "War council? That can't be good. Skyrim's hardly rebounded from the civil war."  
Brynjar shrugged. "I'm not sure what we're discussing, but I don't think war is avoidable unfortunately." Brynjar brushed past Lydia and began packing food and potions. Ciri helped him, grabbing the satchels when they were full.  
"Ciri, can you take this to the horse? I need to grab a few more things."  
"Fine, but I'm not riding a horse with you," Ciri teased. Brynjar made a joke about her riding skills and disappeared up the stairs before Ciri could respond. Lydia sniggered and handed Ciri a pouch of Septims.  
"This should take care of that." Lydia sat down, still giggling.  
"Thank you." Ciri left the house and started on her way to the stables. She looked back for a moment, taking in the city before stepping outside the gates. She passed by the Khajiit caravan, who were haggling with a farmer, and came to the stables.  
"Leaving so soon?" The stable-hand asked.  
Ciri nodded. "Mhm. Solitude bound this time," Ciri took out the coin pouch Lydia gave her. "Will this buy a second horse?"  
The stable-hand gripped the pouch tightly. "Yep, this oughta do," He led a cream colored mare from the stable and handed the reins to Ciri. "She's a bit old, but she can still ride like the wind and she's well trained."  
Ciri began securing the satchels to the mare's saddle. She was checking the bridle and stirrups when Brynjar nudged her.  
"Here, this might come in handy," He handed her a thick fur cloak. "It may be spring, but the weather is completely unpredictable."  
Ciri folded the cloak and wrapped it in a bundle on the saddle. She mounted up and trotted next to Brynjar. She noticed the new armor he wore: banded dark iron with the same seal imprinted on the breastplate. They rode on silently for a while, until Ciri's curiosity poked at her brain.  
"This Civil war I've been hearing about…, care to explain?"  
Brynjar snapped out of daydreaming mode. "Huh? Oh yeah, the Civil War. Right, so before then, there was another war: the Great War, the Aldmeri Dominion against the Empire. There was a chance for the Empire to win, but they didn't, so the Dominion practically crushed us. To save the provinces from any further bloodshed, Emperor Titus Mede II signed an agreement called the White-Gold Concordant. It had lots of different terms the Empire had to meet for there to be peace, but the most controversial one was that the worship of Talos was to be outlawed in all Imperial provinces. You remember the story of Tiber Septim, right?"  
Ciri nodded, recalling the seemingly impossible tale of a man becoming a god. Brynjar continued. "No one was happy about that, especially not us Nords. That right there was enough to start a war. There wouldn't have been one had it not been for the Markarth Incident. What happened there was that Ulfric Stormcloak, a renowned war hero and Jarl of Windhelm, was betrayed by the Imperials. I'm not entirely certain what actually happened, but it was enough for Ulfric to rally a good sized force against the Empire. Ulfric claimed he and his Stormcloaks wanted Skyrim to be independent from the Empire and fight the Dominion alone. He pushed it to the limits when he killed the High King Torygg, making him the most wanted man in Tamriel. See this is where things get complicated. Ulfric was highly respected, especially by Torygg, so much so that he would've gladly taken any advice Ulfric would have to offer; even if it meant war. But Ulfric was an Aldmeri war prisoner, and you see, they let him go so he could intentionally destabilize and weaken the Empire."  
Ciri's head swam with that information. "That's a lot to accuse a man of. Did you ever meet him yourself?"  
"I did. Twice, I think. Once I thought to join his rebellion, especially after the Imperials tried to chop off my head. But I realized there's no way Skyrim can hope to challenge the Dominion without Imperial support. The last time I met him was right before he died, right before I took his head."  
Ciri grimaced. They rode on silently for a few minutes until Brynjar smiled at Ciri.  
"Tell me something. About Yennefer and Geralt."  
Ciri looked at him for a moment and nodded. "OK. Yennefer, she used to give me lessons on magic and how to use it. How to control and focus my abilities into energy," Ciri smiled fondly and chuckled. "I used to think she was a bitter old witch, but I liked her. She grew to love me, and I loved her. She became the mother I never had, and I was the daughter she never could have."  
Brynjar smiled. "Must be something, being the daughter of a monster hunter and a sorceress."  
"It was. Gods, it's been so long since I've seen them. I hope they don't worry too much about me," Ciri began to shiver as the temperature dropped slightly. She wrapped the fur cloak around her. "You know, you've never told me about your parents. You always dodged the subject."  
Brynjar sighed. "Fine, I might as well tell you, or else you'll never leave me alone about it. Well, my mother was an Imperial, grew up in Bruma. She was the owner of an alchemy shop. My father was a Nord, who came to Bruma as a priest of Akatosh. They met, fell in love, and moved to Skyrim, to a small village south of Falkreath. That was where I was born, where I spent eight years. They were good years, full of play and carelessness. Then the Dominion came. They burnt the whole town to the ground. I wanted to stay behind, help my parents escape, but they begged me to run, run and never look back. The last thing I remember of them were their screams of agony as our cottage burnt with them inside it."  
Ciri looked dismayed. "Oh, I'm very sorry. I didn't know."  
"No, it's fine. I ran, north to Falkreath. I slept outside the town on the ground for a while, until the innkeeper and his son found me. They offered me shelter and food in return for work at the inn. The man raised me like his own son, and his son treated me like a brother. I stayed with them until my 24th birthday, when I decided to leave for Cyrodiil, to see the world and go on adventures. That's where my trouble began."  
"Hmm, speaking of birthdays, I never have asked, but how old are you?"  
"30 this summer, Sun's Height to be approximate."  
"Oo, something tells me Geralt won't like that much."  
"Why? We're not that far apart, and besides age is just a number."  
Ciri nodded. "Right." The two continued on for a few more hours, well after the sun had set. Soon they came upon a small farming village with a cozy looking inn.  
Brynjar hopped off his horse. "Here, we'll stop here for the night." Ciri climbed down and allowed Brynjar to tie the horses to a post. They walked into the inn where a large fire was roaring and a few villagers were drinking. He approached the innkeeper. "Is there a room open?"  
The innkeeper stopped wiping the counter to look up for a moment. "Ay, but it only got one bed."  
Brynjar grinned. "One bed is fine." Ciri crossed her arms as he handed the innkeeper 10 septims. Brynjar shrugged deviously. "What? I figured you wouldn't mind." Ciri shut and locked the door behind them and began undressing. Before she continued, she caught Brynjar staring.  
"Turn around and close your eyes, your Rudeness," She teased. Brynjar chuckled as he obeyed, slowly loosening his own armor. Ciri rubbed his bare back when she was done. Brynjar opened his eyes, and began caressing her soft skin, taking in her beauty. "Do you remember what you said about my riding skills?" Ciri asked as she pushed Brynjar down on the sorry wooden bed and started kissing him. Both Brynjar and she forgot what he said as they made blissful love the whole night.


	7. Chapter 7

Brynjar rose early, finding Ciri still asleep and hogging the small fur blanket. He squirmed a little to ease the uncomfortableness of the cramped bed, where Ciri was sleeping on his chest. She stirred and smiled up at him.  
"Up so early?" She asked.  
"Just trying to get comfortable. I never realized how shitty these beds are until I had to share one."  
"And I never realized that you could work such wonders with your tongue," Ciri flirted. "Who taught you that anyways?"  
Brynjar smirked. "No one. Just instinct, really. And experience." Ciri scoffed and turned to get up, when Brynjar remembered the small tattoo he'd glimpsed on the inside of her thigh. "The rose tattoo… what made you get that?"  
Ciri looked shaken for a moment. "Yes, the rose. I got it when I was young, for a woman I loved very much, someone who's gone now."  
Brynjar sat up, now intrigued. "A woman you said? Was she… your lover?"  
Ciri nodded as she dressed. "Mhm. For a while."  
Brynjar was somewhat confused for a moment. "Wait. So… you like women…and men?"  
Ciri grew a bit frustrated at having to explain. "Yes, Bryn. Is that so hard to understand?"  
Brynjar shook his head. "Did she do the same thing I did? With her mouth, I mean," Ciri shook her head. "But how did-," Brynjar was cut off by a glare that definitely meant to drop the subject. He stared at Ciri for a while, becoming slightly entertained at the image of a naked Ciri kissing another woman. He wondered if Aela would enjoy being with another woman. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to be with another man. He had wondered before, when he was a teenager. He shook the thought away when Ciri threw his undergarments at him.  
"Get dressed Smart One. We should leave sooner rather than later." Ciri walked out, closing the door behind her. Brynjar rushed to dress, fastening his armor and double checking his sword. He walked out of the room, nodding to the innkeeper before exiting, where Ciri was readying the horses. The air was surprisingly chilly for mid-spring.  
"Cool outside. You don't think the Wild Hunt will show their faces now, do you?" Brynjar asked as they mounted up.  
Ciri shook her head. "No. Not after you humiliated one of their generals, Caranthir. They'll think twice about trying again." Ciri wrapped the fur cloak around herself. The two rode silently for hours, allowing Ciri to take in the beautiful landscape. Something about the craggy hills and sparse forest reminded her of Mistle, her first lover. The vibrant sun and the rippling grass made her think about Triss, made her wonder what she was up to nowadays. Ciri wondered if she would ever return to her home again, ever laugh and drink with Geralt, ever have long ponderous conversations with Yennefer. She needed to know if anyone in Tamriel had the ability to get her home.  
"Do you happen to know any powerful mages? You mentioned you studied at a magic academy. Anyone you know that's well studied?"  
Brynjar turned to her, breaking out of distraction. "Yes, I do. For one, myself. I was the top student in Alteration, Illusion, and Destruction magic. I still remember quite a few tricks," Ciri smiled as Brynjar levitated a bottle of mead from the saddlebags and floated it towards him. He smirked as he opened the bottle and drank.  
"Not you, silly. Someone well practiced and very powerful."  
Brynjar sighed. "Fine. I know a couple of wizards and mages at the College, but I don't think they'll be able to help much. I also know some Telvanni wizards, some of the oldest and most powerful mages in Tamriel. They're well experienced in all types of magic. And then there's….," Brynjar stopped for a moment, hesitating to continue.  
Ciri urged him to continue. "And what? Tell me Bryn."  
He hesitated again. "Then there's the Psijic Order. They are so powerful that they can stop time on a whim and even move their island."  
Ciri perked up at hearing this. She was eager to know more.  
Brynjar stopped her before then. "I can't assure you they'll help you. The only time I've ever seen one was when they contacted me personally. Complicated issue that, but it's not important. I know they exist, but I don't know where or if I can find them again."  
"I see," Ciri sighed, slightly disappointed. As the sun began to set, they crossed a bridge across a raging river shaped like a dragon's head. At the other side was a medium sized village, a tad larger than Rorikstead.  
"Dragonbridge," Brynjar said. "We're almost there, about 30 minutes away now."  
Ciri nodded. She'd spotted a large palace on a bluff likely overlooking the sea. "Wanna race? If you beat me, I'll let you share my bed again." She smirked.  
"Really now? I should warn you, I-," Brynjar was cut off by the sound of Ciri kicking her horse into a gallop.  
"Hope you can catch me before I grow old!" She shouted over the wind.  
Brynjar kicked his own mount into a furious gallop to catch up to her. He sped up and led by almost a yard when he grew bold. "Careful Ciri! Hope you manage better in the saddle than you did last night!" He chuckled. Ciri grunted in determination as she pushed her mount harder, coming neck and neck with Brynjar. They stopped right in front of the gates, where armed guards stood vigil.  
Brynjar dismounted and smirked at Ciri. "Well looks like a tie, huh? Not bad, I'm mildly surprised you didn't fall off." Ciri jumped down and playfully lunged at him. Brynjar laughed as he went tumbling to the ground, Ciri carelessly swatting at his face, also laughing. He managed to grab her hands and hold them, with some effort, and attempted to kiss her before one of the guards intervened.  
"Whoa now. Save that for the bedroom, travelers. Get up and state your business here."  
Ciri and Brynjar halted their shenanigans and stood up, dusting off dirt. "Ahem, right. I am Legate Brynjar Snow-Hammer, Dragonborn, and this is my companion, Ciri." He pulled out the letter to show the guard.  
"Ah I see. You're expected, the King's waiting. Go on in, your horses will be taken care of."  
Ciri playfully pushed past Brynjar into the city. The streets were clearing as people retreated into their homes for the night. The fires of streetlamps were lit and guards began patrolling with torches, watching every move suspiciously. Ciri followed Brynjar down the stone paved streets towards the Blue Palace, until he turned and turned over a flowerpot to find a key.  
"What are you doing? We're already late," Ciri scolded.  
Brynjar unlocked the door to the house. "I know, but I can't go in there like this," He gestured to his bulky, sweaty armor. "I won't take too long, wait here." Ciri rolled her eyes as she stood out in front of the large house seemingly owned by Brynjar. She wondered how he'd managed the money to pay for a place this large. Within 15 minutes, Brynjar came out of the house, dressed in fine clothes with a thick fur cloak draped on his shoulders. He held up a silver circlet with a diamond embedded in the center.  
"What's that?" Ciri asked.  
Brynjar smiled. "Remember when you told me you're technically a queen? Well, every queen deserves a crown so here you are." He placed the circlet on Ciri's head and admired how well it went with her hair. She smiled at him then tugged at his arm.  
"Come on, we're already late." The two made their way to the Blue Palace, which was essentially surrounded by guards. One, in Imperial armor, stopped them before reaching the door.  
"Halt. The palace isn't open to the public as of now," The soldier barked.  
Brynjar handed him the letter, hoping the soldier could read decently. The guard promptly handed him back the letter and moved from the door, holding it open for Brynjar and Ciri. The two walked into what was clearly the throne room and walked up the stairs to see the King's steward waiting for them.  
"Dragonborn, right? Thank Talos, it sure took you bloody long enough," Falk Firebeard scolded as he led them to the council room. "The High King is an impatient man; he was going to send a whole legion looking for you, you know? Next time try showing up on time."  
Brynjar struggled not to punch Falk in the face right then. Instead he took a deep breath and walked in the room without a word. At a long wooden table sat High King Balgruuf and General Tarquinius, along with General Tulius and Legate Rikke. Balgruuf stood, the Jagged Crown weighing down on his head.  
"Dragonborn. About time, kept us waiting for nearly an hour," Balgruuf gripped Brynjar's hand and firmly shook it. "Who's your guest?"  
"This is Ciri, my good friend and…lover." Brynjar noticed Tarquinius' smirk before sitting down next to him.  
"Just friends?" Tarquinius whispered. "Ha, nice try."  
Balgruuf frowned. "You trust this outsider? This is a sensitive matter, you know."  
"I do, with my life."  
Ciri sat down next to Brynjar. "And besides, sometimes an outsider's opinion might be useful."  
Balgruuf sighed and sat back down at the head of the table. "Fine then. Let's get started, so we can work out a plan. General Tarquinius, you know more about this than any of us, so tell us what your brother has planned so far."  
Tarquinius cleared his throat. "As of right now, the Emperor bides his time. Last month, at the Elder Council meeting, the Emperor tore up the Concordant right in front of the Thalmor Ambassadors. That meeting hardly ended without bloodshed, just the Dominion promising retribution."  
"And have they? Done anything I mean," General Tulius asked.  
"No. Ambassador Omindal, who holds a seat on the Council, seems convinced it was simply a mistimed show of frustration, and in turn, he's convinced the Dominion as well. Making this the perfect time to act, to gather forces and establish allies."  
"That might be hard, our soldiers took a beating in the war," Legate Rikke added.  
"Yes, but now we'll have the remnants of the Stormcloak troops and they'll definitely want to fight the Thalmor."  
Ciri chimed in. "Key word there: remnants. I doubt whatever's left of them will make much of a difference."  
"Ciri's right," Brynjar added. "If we hope to even challenge the Dominion, we need High Rock, Hammerfell, Morrowind, and potentially Black Marsh."  
Balgruuf sat in silence, clearly perplexed by the issue. After a few moments, he finally spoke. "They're right. Skyrim can only muster half the forces the other provinces can."  
"And there might be an opportunity to bring Valenwood into the fold soon," The table turned to Tarquinius, anticipating the news. "Reports there tell of a revolt stirring, a secret organization plotting to rebel against Thalmor rule. If we offer support, they might agree to fight under the Empire."  
"So tell us what we must do, General."  
"It's simple: gather your soldiers. Forge weapons, charge taxes to collect money, take stock of farm and mine production. But try not to warn the Thalmor, the last thing we need is a surprise attack from them. If you need support, send a courier by horse, one of your own," Tarquinius paused to look at Brynjar. "The Emperor has a special task for you. He has chosen you as Chief Ambassador, which means you will offer his terms to Hammerfell, High Rock, and Morrowind."  
Brynjar was overly surprised. It took him a moment to find his words. "I, uh… I'm honored by the position. I shall do my best to fulfill it." Ciri smiled at Brynjar with approval.  
"Good. Then this meeting is over," High King Balgruuf announced. "Tulius, send Rikke out to all the holds to tally the numbers at first light tomorrow. Discreetly, might I add, don't want to inform those Altmer bastards of our plans."  
"Yes Your Majesty. Rikke," Tulius affirmed and left the room with Legate Rikke, returning to Castle Dour.  
"Dragonborn, you and your guest are welcome to stay here for the night if you wish."  
Brynjar and Ciri stood. "No thank you, Your Majesty. I own a house in the city." He bowed slightly and went out the Palace with Ciri right behind him.  
They walked down the dim streets to Brynjar's mansion, Proudspire. As soon as they walked in, he built a fire in the large fireplace. He turned to Ciri, who had made herself completely at home by raiding the kitchen cabinets.  
"Hungry? I could make some stew or a meat pie," Brynjar offered. He sliced himself some cheddar cheese and opened a bottle of wine.  
"What are they like? Hammerfell and the others, I mean," Ciri asked, handing him her goblet for wine.  
"I only know what I've heard, I haven't been to any of those places. Hammerfell is a large desert land, High Rock is like The Reach here in Skyrim, and Morrowind is like…well an ashy hell, basically."  
"You don't sound too thrilled," Ciri commented, taking a sip of the wine.  
"No, I am very excited really. Just…tired, need a good bed to sleep in," Brynjar smiled wearily at Ciri. "And I have the perfect idea to help me sleep." He stood up and walked towards Ciri, reaching to undo her shirt. She slapped his hand away.  
"Nice try, but not tonight, not after that stunt you pulled this evening." Ciri smirked and disappeared up the stairs to the guest bedroom.  
Brynjar scoffed. "What? Ciri, come on!" He followed her up the stairs to find her undressing with the door wide open. She stopped at her undergarments, showing off her curves and perky breasts.  
"See what you're missing? I reckon you'll think about that next time, won't you?" Ciri teased. She slammed the door in his face and proceeded to fall into the downy bed. Brynjar went into his own room, undressing and leaving on his pants, and went to sleep very sexually frustrated.


	8. Chapter 8

"Zireal," a voice called from the mist in the Elder Speech. "Zireal, you must listen to me. Seek the stone book, the history set in stone, the forgotten temple. The dragon shall lead you, and we shall return to the world of the Aen Seidhe."   
Ciri woke up from her dream shivering. The voice that called out to her belonged to no other than Avallac'h, she was sure. She just didn't know what he meant by, 'the stone book'. He did mention a dragon, his obscure way of saying Brynjar. She got dressed and went downstairs to find breakfast waiting for her, but no Brynjar. She looked around for a moment to find him, before finding a note by a bowl:  
"Come find me in the market."  
Ciri discarded the letter and sat to eat breakfast. She felt a bit lonely without Brynjar making jokes or giving her looks. She quickly downed the cold breakfast and headed out the door.  
The streets were buzzing early, people going about. Ciri passed by several merchants trying to haggle with her, before coming to a wine merchant.  
"Morning, sir. You wouldn't have happened to see a man, with long black hair today?"  
The toothless man grinned. He pointed to the stall across from him and sure enough, Brynjar was standing over a jewelry stall.  
"Ciri! Morning. Sleep well last night?"  
Ciri walked over to where he was. She noticed the jewelry was in cases and was obviously high quality. "Mhm, yes. What brings you here this early?"  
"Well… I'm…placing an order," he answered. The jeweler showed him a very elaborate necklace with a dragonhead pendant on it and was encrusted in rubies. Brynjar's eyes widened and he motioned to the jeweler to put it away. "Right. Anyways, do you want to look around some? The Khajiit caravan's in town."  
"I guess."  
Brynjar smiled brightly. "Great!" Brynjar started forward, but noticed Ciri stayed behind. "Oh wait. What's weighing on you?"  
"I need to get home, Bryn. I had a dream last night, Avallac'h spoke to me. He told me to 'seek the stone book' and that you could help me find it."  
Brynjar frowned. "Stone book? Did he say anything else? There's a lot of things recorded on stone, I'm afraid."  
"Something about a history set in stone and a forgotten temple," Ciri watched as his eyebrows went up in recognition. "That sound familiar?"  
Brynjar nodded. "Yeah, now it does. I think he means Sky Haven Temple. There's a wall there that tells how three Nord heroes defeated Alduin."  
"How far is it?"  
"Maybe a day's ride south," Brynjar held Ciri's hands and looked in her eyes. "Ciri…are you really going to leave? I mean, I know you will, but maybe-,"  
Ciri smiled sadly at him. "I must return Bryn. I need to defeat the Wild Hunt. Only Avallac'h can help me, maybe Geralt and Yen," She linked her arm in his. "So while I'm here, let's make the best of it."  
Brynjar smiled again. "So…the Khajiit caravan, then?" The two walked arm-in-arm through the busy streets down to the very large Khajiit stall.  
"Wares from Valenwood and Elswyr! Rare fruits and foods! Moon sugar so fine, Azura herself blessed it!" A Khajiit merchant shouted, gaining attention from passer-bys. Ciri spotted some strange looking fruit at one side of the stand.  
"What's that? She pointed at a pink fleshy fruit.  
The Khajiit smiled slyly. "That, my comrade, is the tigerfruit. It is sweeter than melons and softer than cotton, and juicier than a grape," He pulled out the knife and cut it in half. "Have a taste?"  
Ciri took the fruit and handed the other half to Brynjar. At the same time, they bit into the fruit, and juices dribbled down their chins.  
"Mmm," Ciri slurped. "That was fantastic! How many more do you have?"  
"Several more crates, enough to last the rest of the day."  
"We'll take a basket-full of them," Brynjar said. The Khajiit gave him a carrying basket full of the tigerfruit, all for 20 septims.  
"But wait, there's more!" The Khajiit merchant motioned for them to follow and led them to a stall covered in deep brown, sweet smelling bars. "This," He offered a piece to Ciri and Bryn. "This is chocolate. It is sweeter than honey and melts in your mouth, a beautiful melody of sweetness. Try it."  
Ciri took a bite of the chocolate as Brynjar watched. She liked it so much that she swiped Brynjar's piece and devoured it.  
"Hey!" He protested.  
The Khajiit smiled. "It is marvelous, isn't it? Here, try more." The merchant let the two try several other chocolates, some which he called truffles: dark, bitter chocolate with fruit inside, light chocolate with creamy caramel. So many that Brynjar ended up buying 4 boxes of chocolate.  
Ciri and Brynjar continued exploring the market, haggling prices, trying exotic foods. They bought a bottle of wine and some furs from Valenwood, banana beer from Elsweyr, silks and scents from Hammerfell, and more wine, distilled from moon sugar. They both ate so much, their stomachs were near bursting. Ciri bought a special gown, which she refused to show Brynjar. By the time the sun began to set, the streets died down and the two returned to Proudspire.  
Brynjar poured some of the moon sugar wine for the two of them. He sat across from her on his bed, while Ciri sat cross-legged on the other end.  
"Enjoy yourself?" He handed her the glass.  
Ciri smiled tiredly and sipped the wine. It gave her a slight tingle down her throat and she felt a weird intoxication already. "I did. I had no idea I could eat so much."  
Brynjar smiled. "I know. One day I hope to travel to Valenwood and Elsweyr, travel to distant deserts and jungles. And I hope…that you'll come with me when I do."  
Ciri finished the glass swiftly. "You know I won't be here forever, I simply can't. But I hope that won't get you too down in the dumps, because I have a surprise for you." Ciri ran up the stairs and Brynjar heard a door slam.  
Brynjar smiled, guessing what might be in store for him. He quickly finished his wine and threw off his shirt. He sprinted up the stairs and waited by the shut door, already slightly hard. The door swung open to reveal Ciri clad in a golden see-through nightgown. She motioned for him to come closer.  
"I figured, might as well go all out." Ciri kissed Brynjar deeply, loosening his pants. They fell together on the bed and only thought about each other for the rest of the night.


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, Ciri woke up before Brynjar, noticing the sun hadn’t risen yet. She already knew they would have to leave, but she tried not to think about it too much. Instead she thought about how peaceful the morning was and the steady rise and fall of Bryn’s chest. She tried to fall back asleep, but she couldn’t keep her eyes closed for more than a minute. Eventually Ciri gave up and decided to go downstairs to make some breakfast and prepare for the journey. As she finished the breakfast, Brynjar came down to greet her.   
“Morning beautiful,” He said as he hugged her waist. “Something smells good. Whadidya fix?”  
Ciri smiled at his warmth. “Eggs and berry tarts. Unfortunately, I’m not as talented a cook as you are,” She scooped the food onto their plates. “Think some banana beer would be nice with this?”  
Brynjar nodded as he dug into the food. “Sure. Hey, this is not too shabby. Pretty good really.” He smiled at her, trying not to notice she was already dressed and prepared to leave.   
“Bryn,” Ciri started, trying to find the best way to tell him she had to go. “I have to leave today. I can’t keep running from the Wild Hunt, I have to face them. I don’t want to go, but I need to, and I need your help getting there.”   
Brynjar smiled sadly. “Of course. I know you have to go, and I’m going to help you. Because I love you and would do anything for you.” He stood up and went to get dressed. Ciri cleaned up and began sharpening her sword. She waited by the door for Brynjar to get ready. As soon as he came down, the two headed out and down to the stables. Halfway there, Brynjar stopped.   
“Ah, wait a minute. I almost forgot something. Ciri, can you wait a moment while I go get something?”   
“Fine. Just hurry.”   
Brynjar left Ciri in the streets for a few moments and returned slightly out of breath. “Right. We can go now.”  
The pair resumed their way out of the city and prepped their horses, with Brynjar taking his time, trying to savor every moment with her. They set out in midmorning, trotting close together.   
“So Ciri, what’ll you do when you return?” Brynjar inquired.  
“I’m not sure. I guess Avallac’h will have something in mind, but if not, I’ll try to find Yennefer or Geralt and just go from there. What about you? What will you do when I go?”  
Brynjar thought in silence for a moment. “Well, I’ll probably be waiting for more orders from the Emperor before I leave…and for you to return.”   
They rode on together, taking in the craggy hills silently and occasionally speaking. Ciri told Brynjar about the Wild Hunt commander, Eredin, and Brynjar told her about Miraak, the First Dragonborn and Hermaeus Mora.  
“The First against the Last? Must have been quite a battle.” Ciri stated.  
“Oh it was, but Hermaeus Mora had betrayed him, he no longer had the Daedra’s favor,” Brynjar’s expression turned into one of caution. “I…I still have nightmares about it. I made a deal with Hermaeus Mora and was able to stop Miraak, but at what cost? Most men would go insane with all the knowledge contained in Apocrypha.”  
“You’re not most men though,” Ciri interjected.   
“Maybe not, but I can still die. And when I do, well, Daedric Princes always claim their due. My soul will be bound to Oblivion for all eternity!”  
Ciri looked him in the eye and grinned. “If they do, I’ll find them and we can fight them off together.”  
Brynjar smiled at that, knowing full well that was impossible. He stopped his horse by a juniper tree and dismounted. “We’re close, we can walk from here.”  
They walked down a steep hill down to the banks of the Karth River. As they descended, Ciri marveled at the rocks rising high above their heads. They came to a cave-like entrance and Brynjar cast an illumination spell to light their steps. “Careful, Delphine and Esbern may have laid traps,” he whispered.  
As they got closer to the blood seal, Ciri noticed signs of recent habitation. Avallac’h, she thought. “Zireal, you return.” Echoed a voice off the stone.  
“Avallac’h. Good seeing you too.”   
Brynjar jumped upon seeing Avallac’h step out of the shadows. “This the elf you mentioned?”  
Avallac’h answered for her. “I am and we have no time to explain our business here,” He turned to Ciri. “We must depart soon, a portal opens directly to the Continent. Say your farewells now.”  
Ciri rolled her eyes at his tone as he turned away to wait. She turned to Brynjar, whose eyes were full of sadness. She grabbed his hands and held them tight. “I have to go now, Bryn. Only when I defeat the Hunt will be free of them. You understand, I know you do.”  
Brynjar nodded sadly. “Aye, I do. Since I don’t know when we’ll see each other again, I had this made for you,” He pulled out an amulet shaped like a dragon head encrusted with rubies and placed it in her hand. Ciri smiled and stroked it.  
“It’s beautiful, Bryn. I do hope I don’t lose it,” The whoosh of an opening portal sounded.   
“Cirilla,” Avallac’h warned.   
Ciri kissed Brynjar one last time, ignoring Avallac’h’s warning. Brynjar leaned in and whispered, “I love you.”   
Ciri smiled sadly and turned away to follow Avallac’h through the portal, leaving Brynjar alone with nothing but the cold stone and darkness.


End file.
